Let's Go Back
by S80
Summary: Yamamoto Takeshi was a man made of fond memories. 10 S80 Drabbles/Ficlets.
1. One Generation

A/N: Ah, if I could only get in the mood to twist up the story line and write out the rest of the Squalo-based one... This one goes backwards, oho~! Fluff, I suppose. Writing this stuff feels weird. =w= This takes place about 15 years later, so they've known each other for a long time here. Mm, I've always thought that if they were in a relationship, it'd be like this... I like happy endings. D: Although, this is technically 'the beginning'. -/End Rambling.-

* * *

"Haha, children these days are really gifted, aren't they, Squalo?" Yamamoto commented, over looking the individual training of about 20 students from a private balcony. Squalo, still keeping a look of fresh youth on his older body, only snorted.

Even though Squalo's reply was vague, years of knowing the man made Yamamoto able to decipher the code. "I'm glad you agree." He looked over his shoulder to beam at him, a nostalgic look in his warm brown eyes. "But it gets dangerous sometimes..." The younger man's face grew somber and he turned around to stand closely in front of Squalo. "Sometimes I wonder how we even stayed alive." he trailed off. Squalo's face took on a subtle gentleness, watching Yamamoto close his eyes in an attempt to briefly relive their past missions together. A hand, unhesitant in its action, found Yamamoto's in a warm touch. A weak laugh left Yamamoto's lips. He felt young again, leaning his forehead against Squalo's shoulder; it was his absolute favorite place.

Squalo's hand eventually wrapped around Yamamoto's, a sign that the past was done with and what mattered was now. "Voi, you aren't going to get sentimental now, are you?" Squalo softly remarked, feeling Yamamoto's fingers close around the side of his palm. He inhaled the scent on the rich Italian suit Squalo chose to wear today. "No, I'm not going to." Yamamoto replied fondly. The years had certainly changed the both of them, Yamamoto noted. Squalo was gentler, a bit quieter, but still had that overall zeal about him. It was obvious in the subtle brushes he would purposely do when walking past, the way he would snore lightly on the sofa as the Vongola rain guardian prepared an authentic Japanese dinner, and how he would still shout out that "Voi~!!" Yamamoto loved to hear so much, regardless even if he had been sleeping when Squalo returned home.

"Takeshi?" Squalo murmured, tilting his head to rest on Yamamoto's. "Yes?" There was a silence of true anticipation. "I care about you. A lot." Yamamoto turned his head a bit on Squalo's shoulder to face away from him. He chuckled, knowing that it would be hard for the assassin to straight out say what he really meant. Yamamoto pulled away temporarily, eyes gleaming with an all-knowing look. "I care a lot about you too, Squalo." Yamamoto could feel Squalo's hold on his hand falter a bit when he pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. He casually replaced his head onto Squalo's shoulder.

Whenever Squalo was ready, he thought, he would be ready too. The wind suddenly picked up around them, bringing out the couple of their own little world, and Yamamoto could have sworn he heard the faint mutter of "I really love you." travel on the wind, and perhaps when Squalo intertwined their fingers together he thought he heard it again.

So many years had passed, all the obstacles in their lives passed with strained ease. So many years just to hear that simple structure of words leave Squalo's mind and made into spoken words.

Yamamoto smiled and nuzzled into the side of Squalo's neck, making sure that his own vocalization of those feelings were swept into the wind as well, only to be heard as a faint whisper.

"I really love you too."

His reply was possibly heard, Squalo's doting kiss on his head making him believe so.

There really was no other place he wanted to be.


	2. One Decade

A/N: So, this would be TYL! I really can't say much here... Nil Lara's "Fighting for My Love" is a huge inspiration when I write these. -3- Thank Scrubs for showing me that song~ This feels cheesy, but I think love is cheesy in general. D: **_WUT DA FUQ, LONG DRABBLE_**.

* * *

_"Voi, you don't understand! Stop trying to sympathize with me!"_

He took that like a blow to his naturally kind heart. Yamamoto stood, mouth pulled into a glum line, in front of Squalo's bedroom door. He replayed the sound of the force behind the slammed panel of wood in his head over and over, feeling it was more like a gunshot to his resolution if anything.

It had started like any other day, paired up on a mission together that would require their expertise in swords. They received the keys to the hotel and came and went as they pleased. Today was no different. Their hotel sat in the heart of Paris, bordered by pedestrian filled streets, fancy boutiques, and delicious bakeries, all under the looming height of the Eiffel Tower. Yamamoto insisted that _they_, as a pair, go sight seeing since there was at least three days before the assigned time to complete the job.

"Ah! Look, I see the Eiffel Tower from here!" Yamamoto exclaimed as he lifted out his suitcase from the taxi's trunk. Squalo looked over at the man made wonder with little interest and lifted out his own suitcase, closing the trunk. "It's so cool to be in Paris!" Yamamoto grinned, wandering over to the driver's side and paying him with a generous amount of money. Squalo just issued an impatient growl and hit the busy sidewalk with his black boots, not caring that his tied back hair and black Varia outfit earned a lot of stares. He was too far ahead of Yamamoto to hear the laughter that filled the air around his partner, but he could see the twinkling gleam in the rain guardian's eyes when he finally caught up with him. "Come on, Squalo, let's slow down. It's not like every day we get to experience a winter in Paris!" Squalo turned his head sharply to give Yamamoto a no-nonsense look. He hurried his pace and turned into the hotel lobby. "Haha, typical Squalo." Yamamoto took his time getting to the hotel, meeting with a crossed arms Squalo standing near the check in desk, luggage at his feet. "Took you long enough, Yamamoto." Squalo leered at him from across the lobby.

Yamamoto gave Squalo a coy grin. "I'm sorry I made you wait." At his entrance, many of the personnel (male and female alike) took interest in Yamamoto's charming aura, pearly white smile, and enticing hues of autumn brown. Dressed in a finely tailored Italian suit, Yamamoto walked up to the check-in desk with a swagger that could only be found in the Mafia. "_Bonjour, Monsieur_~" the clerk greeted, going unnoticed with his sizing up of the mafioso. "Do you have a reservation?" Squalo moved to stand next to Yamamoto. "Yes, we're reserved under the name 'Takeshi Yamamoto'." Yamamoto turned to grin warmly at Squalo, purposely using the term 'we' to ease any ill feelings he had towards the clerk. The clerk did his job quickly, almost trying to avoid the friendly pair of eyes. Yamamoto had a feeling that Squalo was glaring the man down, as that was how everyone reacted to Squalo's cutthroat glower. "Yes, Takeshi Yamamoto. Here are your key cards." The young man behind the counter gently placed two key cards into Yamamoto's hands, melting under the appreciative smile he was given in return. "Enjoy your stay..." the clerk trailed off with a light French accent, watching as Squalo roughly took Yamamoto by the arm and dragged him and his luggage to a bell boy. "Voi!"

How he enjoyed every _'Voi!'_ that ever sounded from Squalo's sneering lips was a mystery even to him, but he knew that the rough handling was just out of a childish jealousy and possessiveness. Their relationship was relatively new, if you could say years of subtle advances and very slow progressions from accidental brushes to perhaps a few seconds of holding hands over the period of ten years was 'relatively new'. But that was just it--

Squalo let go of Yamamoto's arm to easily put their luggage on the bellboy's cart. "Room 1980."

--Yamamoto loved Squalo for who he was, jagged edges and all. "You'll get a tip if you get there fast enough!" Squalo fumed, seeing the look of attitude about to snap on the bellboy's face.

He wouldn't change Squalo if Squalo didn't want to be changed. "Let's go then, shall we?" Yamamoto tried to find Squalo's hand, but was reminded by an annoyed swat that send his hand away that Squalo did not care for the public display of their affection. Yamamoto respected his wishes and opted to place his hand on his fellow swordsman's upper back, a place far less intimate than that sensitive right hand of his. They quietly entered the elevator and shared a silent ride up to the seventh floor. Equally as quiet, they exited the elevator and took a short walk to their room. Yamamoto handed a key card to Squalo and then used his own to open up the two bedroom suite. The decor was bathed in white and soft sea blues, a slate gray occasionally accenting random pieces. "The style is very relaxing." Yamamoto inhaled merrily. "Even the air here is refreshing."

The older man looked around at the living room, moving deeper into the suite. "Voi, that bell boy better get here soon." Yamamoto laughed, walked in, and plopped down onto the faint tan chaise lounge, nuzzling into the softness of one of its pillow. "I think I'll take a nap. Jetlag is the worst, haha!" Yamamoto peeled off his shoes and lifted up his legs to curl up compactly on the lounge, hoping that the room left over would encourage Squalo to sit down with him. There was a rapid knock on the door; the bellboy, Yamamoto thought, watching Squalo open the door with a fury. "Took you long enough." Yamamoto could hear Squalo grumble, and he also heard the sound of a curt shut of the door; he was sure Squalo stuck true to his colors and didn't give him that falsely advertised tip.

"You're amazing, Squalo." Yamamoto smiled, his statement absent of ill intent. Honestly, he just wanted Squalo to know that he liked him for being him. It wasn't as if Squalo was any other person, he was far from it, but that was attractive. Squalo's straightforwardness clashed with his laid back demeanor, their taste in what was enjoyable, and basically any other defining characteristics. Even why they fought became two different reasons, but Yamamoto felt that they shared the same basic principle of 'having someone's back' when it came to missions. He let out another hearty laughter and received a cold leer from Squalo. "What's so funny?" Yamamoto only gave an adorable smile to the man and sat up in the chaise lounge. "It's okay, no one is going to take me from you." It was true, since the first time they had set foot in France, Squalo gave any passerby that so much as breathed near Yamamoto a challenging glare, and when it was inevitable to see Yamamoto being his friendly, charming self with other people, Squalo would hurry off as to avoid seeing it. Yamamoto even picked up on the disconcerting jealousy in Squalo's tone of voice whenever the check-in clerk checked him out.

As sincere he meant his outright statement to sound, Squalo did not like it at all. His jaw clenched tightly in a futile attempt to not yell at Yamamoto, but he failed his own will and did anyway, being chased by Yamamoto to his room door when trying to escape the awkwardness of the situation.

---

And that was how Yamamoto ended up standing in front of Squalo's room door, feeling lost.

"Squalo..." Yamamoto brought up a hand to his chin, absently musing over the lingering memory of the scar that marred his chin. "Squalo, when you're ready to talk, I'll be here." He knew better than to persist at the door. The waiting game was something he was used to playing with Squalo. All he needs is some time to himself, Yamamoto thought, still ghosting his hand over the imperfection on his face. That man was a walking enigma, fueled by self-motivation and an unconditional hatred for all things worthless. Yes, all he needed was some time.

The city outside the wall of windows eventually gave way to a darker nighttime skyline. Yamamoto found himself still lying on the lounge chair, his eyes lidded in drowsiness. He had planned to take a nap, but what if Squalo decided to come out soon and talk to him about the jealousy that came with any new relationship? Yawning, Yamamoto took off his overcoat, threw it onto the chair nearest him, and loosened his tie. He would wait all night if he had to.

He didn't have to wait long, though, as the sound of a door clicking open and clicking shut stirred his interest. Squalo, his face grim with a look that implied he knew he had overreacted, was standing quietly in front of his bedroom door, arms crossed in their usual defensive way. Yamamoto sat up on the lounge and scooted over to the side, patting the seat next to him. Squalo rolled his eyes, but made his way over to take the seat next to Yamamoto. Trying to be sweet, Yamamoto reached next to Squalo's face to replace a stray hair that had made its way out of the ponytail. He expected the slight tremor of unfamiliarity from Squalo, seeing as gentle touches were perceived the same as deathly attacks, but he continued nonetheless. "I should take it slow." Yamamoto said, letting his hand trail down Squalo's arm to rest on top of his hand. "I've known you for years, known who you are, what you've done, how you are in almost any situation." Squalo withdrew his hand from under Yamamoto's, and that hurt him a bit. "I know this is really new to you, it is for me, too." Yamamoto sported a somber look now. "But no one will take me away from you, Squalo, no one." he tried to smile, urging a collective tear to fall from his right eye. Squalo did nothing to try and comfort him, but he didn't do anything to show that he rejected the talk. Yamamoto, not afraid to show his feelings, wiped the tear casually from his eye. "Just tell me when I'm doing something wrong." He didn't want to scare Squalo with their sudden jump in relation, because Yamamoto knew he wanted this relationship to work out just as badly.

"I...just... Nn." Squalo murmured, turning away when he couldn't really form any words. Yamamoto gave a reassuring smile. "It'll all be okay." New relationships always had these kinds of emotions attached to them, some more severe than other. Yamamoto could only fathom how this felt for the man who had been raised coldly in a world that never gave a damn and how this feeling called 'infatuation' affected him. He probably didn't know what to do, or how to handle himself, or what a relationship was about. Yamamoto was raised to always share his love, evident in his warm smiles he gave to just about everyone.

Yamamoto leaned back onto the lounge, wrapping an arm around Squalo's shoulder to gently invite him to lean on his chest. A scowl, not really stained by disgust but more of confusion, was on the silver haired man's face, but he took the offer anyway and huffed. "I'm going to take a nap." Yamamoto hummed, gently holding Squalo. Squalo shifted his body over so that it was beside Yamamoto's, but his head still rested on Yamamoto's steadily rising torso. "There's a bed if you want to nap, Takeshi." he retorted, almost fumbling with the intimacy of calling Yamamoto by his first name. "I know. I just wanted to do this." Squalo felt his face flush with the peculiarity of being adored, by a man younger than him no less.

He hoped Squalo felt safe around him and that he was doing everything right. His answer soon came with he felt the swordsman's breathing steady into a slow, relaxed pace, his head heavy on his chest. Yamamoto closed his own eyes and exhaled with a content smile on his face. This would be one of their first vulnerable meetings as a pair.

Yamamoto ran a hand through Squalo's hair and entertained himself with the thought of one day being able to give him a chaste kiss before lulling into a sleep of his own.

Perhaps in a few more years Squalo would be even be able to return it.


	3. One Year

A/N: Going backwards feels weird... Oh, an exposé! So, er, this is present plus one year. Why, of course I'm making things up! |D I've noticed that I update at weird times... 8T For in the U.S., anyway. Haaa, I'm going to do the same 'exposé' idea for Squalo's "One Year". Mmm, recycling things is okay as long as I put them to a different use. –Nods.-

* * *

"Guh!" Yamamoto staggered back, using his free hand to reach for his chin. "Voi, what's wrong, brat?" his opponent taunted, adorned with an impish jeer. _This cut is pretty deep,_ Yamamoto thought. But there was no time to think when Squalo, hyped up during one of their more serious sparring sessions, was aiming to take another swing at him with that merciless sword of his. He threw himself to the side, doing a kind of tuck-and-roll maneuver to get back up on his feet once he landed. While there would always be some blood during training, the dark red liquid pooling onto Yamamoto's sparring jacket was excessive. Very, very excessive. He was determined, though, and took advantage of Squalo's frozen stance to run towards him and come down on his neck with the dull back of his blade. That was peculiar. Usually Squalo was very good at keeping up his guard and a slightly ungraceful attack from the front should have been easily deflected with a quick flick of his wrist; that's why Yamamoto attempted the charge in the first place. "Is something wrong, Squalo?" Yamamoto unconsciously raised the back of his free hand to wipe away at the collecting blood under his lip, barely letting out a stinging hiss when he bothered the wound.

All Yamamoto could see in Squalo was an uneven sneer and glowering eyes. Had he done something wrong during their sparring match? Yamamoto's sword was finally intercepted with Squalo's and he took no caution in violently pushing the boy's blade away from his neck. "You're an idiotic brat!" Squalo growled while turning around to leave the dojo-styled room. Yamamoto blinked to refresh his constantly hazing vision. He was careful as he sat down, legs crossed and a hand trying to stop the blood flow.

Squalo had landed a frontal hit earlier, nicking the boy's chin. Yamamoto understood that injuries would occur, but he never thought it should have been a reason to stop. "Squalo?" he questioned the silence around him. "Tilt your head back, damn it!" The man in question showed up in a rush at the door, holding a first aid kit he had found in a hall closet. "Okay." was all Yamamoto could say before doing what he was asked. Squalo, with an ambiguity of hesitance, began to dab the stinging, sterile substance on the wound, perpetually wiping off the blood as well. "Haha, that kinda hurts." Yamamoto closed his eyes and gave a painful grin, because the wound was starting to burn and Squalo wasn't being gentle; not that he expected the man to be. The fact that he didn't just tell him to clean and bandage the wound himself was gentle enough for Yamamoto.

"Voi! You're bleeding buckets of blood, what's with the stupid grin?" Squalo asked, his eyes precariously inspecting the severity of the wound before placing a thick cotton pad on it. Yamamoto laughed, displacing the pad easily since Squalo was doing all of this with his only good hand. "Mm, nothing." He looked up at the man with a dreamy look, who was still taller even thought he sat on his knees. Squalo was there, his eyes narrowed, but now in a confused way. His hand pressed down harder on the wound and a nervous laugh escaped Yamamoto's grin. "Haha-- What's that for?" Using his head to gesture towards the first aid box, Squalo made Yamamoto take note of the medical tape that was already out on the floor. "Tape the damn thing to your face." Yamamoto groped for the tape, not really having a choice to move his head since Squalo needed the inclined angle to keep the pad in place. He got his fingers around a small strand and worked around Squalo's hand to tape the pad in a weaved cross pattern. The Varia swordsman removed his hand and returned to his full posture; glaring down at Yamamoto with the same look he gave him before. "Thanks, Squalo~" Yamamoto laughed as he pushed himself up. "Voi! Go get yourself cleaned up and make some food. This is going to be our lunch break."

Yamamoto humored Squalo with a lighthearted "Welcome to Takesushi!" and a chuckle as he meandered to the hallway bathroom. Upon reaching the bathroom, Yamamoto could have sworn he heard the tired sigh of Squalo travel up the hall and the faint utterance of, "Annoying brat, amazing swordsman."

He tried out an humble smile for the sink mirror and patted the bandage on his face with curiosity.

Then he wondered if blood loss made people hear things.

And he couldn't also help but to think the inevitable; that wound was going to scar.

---

But the memory of the scar would be sweet and mark the first time Squalo every showed him any kind of care.

That humble smile turned into a winsome grin.


End file.
